


It's only a mistake if you regret it

by WHUMPBBY



Series: It's only a mistake if you regret it - series [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Damian being the adorable bab, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, M/M, Omega Jason Todd, Omegaverse, and then made into an omega, jason dying and returning, lactation caused by underhanded means, made up social dynamics, mention of brain damage, messed up families full of murders, no underage smut but a lot of dubious machinations on an under-aged mind, non-con sex change, underhanded baby acquisition, where do I even start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 23:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WHUMPBBY/pseuds/WHUMPBBY
Summary: No, if one wanted to ‘make nice’ with a grieving father, there was no better way than to present him with an impossible possibility of turning back time and giving back what has been taken from him. Luckily, Ra’s had the perfect tool for the job.Except it didn’t go exactly as planned.Jason Todd comes back to life. He comes back incomplete - but the situation is hardly unsalvagable. At the very least he can be made useful for his pack.





	It's only a mistake if you regret it

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this was going to be quick and dirty and somehow it turned into almost 10k of contemplative and cuteTT Go figure. 
> 
> Ok, glossary:  
> \- in the made up Eastern culture, children are called kits, not pups (it's considered in bad taste to compare people to dogs)  
> \- generally, Western social structure pertaining omegas is considered backwards and archaic (especially to Ra's who comes from an oooold culture of celebrating maternity)  
> \- omegas have more feline qualities to alpha's canine ones  
> \- pack in the West is a clan in the East  
> \- designation/gender in the West is a caste in the East  
> \- umm'i is a made up cute baby nickname for a person who is standing in for a mother  
> \- omegas are generally super touchy and child-and-family-oriented, feel best in stable families they can micromanage to their hearts content and love luxury - and then there's Jason Todd=_=  
> \- omegas can start lactating at a drop of a hat when faced with a hungry pup  
> \- omegas have two sets of sharp teeth - pre-molars are just another canines - which nowadays are used mostly by mothers to terrify their misbehaving children  
> \- Jason died at 14/15  
> \- Damian's age is a bit convoluted, he'd spent a couple years in the incubator and once he got out he was already about 2. These years are counted into his general age. He was smaller than expected and emotionally stunted, thus Ra's bonded him with Jason. When Damian leaves for Gotham he's been 8 years out of the incubator and Jay is 22/23

The plan might not have been as well thought-out as he’d assumed at first. It wasn’t implausible, the idea behind it was sound - Bruce Wayne presented a threat that was better appeased than outrightly removed. Ra’s had learned to appreciate men of power who would rather use it to maintain order than to abuse it for monetary gain, men who could be reasoned with, men with potential to be more than what humanity had to offer.

Because of that mutual respect, there was no outright danger for him from the man, and even if there was, time solved all problems and all Ra’s had to do was to wait for the Detective to be replaced by one of his proteges – because there will be more, Bruce Wayne was an alpha, a born pack leader and the need for a pack was in his blood. There will be another little bird flying through the Gotham’s night soon enough, as soon as the Detective stops mourning his last one’s death.

A tragic circumstance, for sure, for all his age, training and experience Ra’s was still human at the core and keenly understood the pain of losing a kit – especially in such tragic way. He’d kept a close eye on the Bat, vaguely disconcerted with the way he was expressing his despair.

As much as the raising violence appealed to his daughter, Ra’s found it unsightly from one of such keen intellect – usually, he preferred to deal with men who weren’t viable to go into a rage-filled frenzy at a drop of a hat and that was the end game of the current situation. Batman was slipping, his instincts demanded revenge for the lost packling, while his steel-backed morality shied away from the very idea of it.

Ra’s considered doing the man a favour and killing the Joker himself, but discarded that idea quickly. It wouldn’t appease the alpha to have his pray taken from him and the man behind it would try to excuse that reaction as something based in ethics rather than instinct. It wouldn’t do to kill the clown off quietly, the Bat would never stop searching for the culprit.

No, if one wanted to ‘make nice’ with a grieving father, there was no better way than to present him with an impossible possibility of turning back time and giving back what has been taken from him. Luckily, Ra’s had the perfect tool for the job.

Except it didn’t go exactly as planned.

He'd expected it to a degree, of course, an Al Ghul never went in unprepared. The forensic reports he’d acquired clearly stated the extent of the injuries the boy had suffered; the most obvious ones were caused by the explosion, yes, but the surface burns and broken bones were inconsequential, easily fixable. The more concerning issue was the fact that the child was nearly beaten to death prior to that – if one was to trust the examiner, the injuries from the crowbar alone were enough to kill him and it was just luck that the explosion did quicker work of it than the internal bleeding caused by numerous skull fractures.

The explosion itself might have been a mercy more than anything - had Batman got there in time to disable the bomb and assure prompt medical help, he’d be left with a kit so brain-damaged it would be a cruelty to keep it alive.

Ra’s gambled on the fact that the Pit could heal any injury and trusted it to do right by the boy.

He didn’t count on the trauma of experiencing both death and rebirth to be so acute.

That left him standing in the medical suite, in front of a bed and the kit strapped to it. He watched the boy straining against the bonds regardless of the sedatives steadily pumped into his veins, not a shred of awareness in his hazy eyes that burned luminous green. The boy was small for his age, but strong for his posture and quite agile, well trained to make use of his body, as a half-dozen of Ra’s men could attest to while nursing the bruises and bite-wounds the kit gave them in his thwarted escape-attempt. An effect of the Pit, most probably, as it tended to enhance some physical qualities (he wondered if the boy’s senses were equally enhanced and felt a spark of pity at the oversensitivity he was most probably experiencing), the muscle strength being the most common one.

But the brain was a delicate mechanism, the mind healed on its own timetable, leaving them in a limbo of uncertainty.

Ra’s didn’t take easily to failure and mistakes were only mistakes in his understanding if one let themselves feel regret over them. This situation wasn’t yet unsalvageable, the child may yet recover if it's strong enough. If not, well, he wasn’t worth the cape. Batman may appreciate his kit being simply alive, but Ra’s was not in a habit of giving out useless gifts.

“He’s given you a chance once,” he spoke to the prone figure, fingertips briefly resting on the remains of the tangled black mane shorn short to ease the access for the physicians. Like that it was easy to see scars covering the scalp, but hard to discern which ones came from the beating at the hands of the clown and which came before. “I hope you’ll appreciate the one I’m giving you now.”

The child had lived in pain and died in terror, its resurrection could go two ways – but Bruce Wayne wasn’t known for taking chances on weaklings and neither was Ra’s Al Ghul.

 

* * *

 

It took almost six months for the best physicians the League had to offer to give Ra’s the final diagnosis – the child was healing, but the chance of him regaining full mental capability was slim. The attacks of rage came regularly and the vacant look in his eyes hasn’t cleared, the kit still lived in the horror of his own mind with no way to break free. The body thrived under the care it received, but the mind staggered behind slowly.

Of course, none of the doctors quite understood how the boy was alive in the first place, so the diagnosis was to be taken with a grain of salt.

Stil, was it worth to waste any more resources?

Giving the little bird back to the Detective in such half-fixed state maybe wouldn't be the kindest thing to do, but, it would surely be respectful to leave the decision to keep the child in the father’s hands? Yes. If one thought it through, it was the Detective’s fault that the poor Robin ended up the way he did; his inability to solve his problems decisively had sealed the boy’s fate. Let him deal with the consequences of that.

But being intentionally cruel wasn’t in his nature when it didn't serve to teach a lesson. The young beta boy may never recover fully, but he needn't be a useless weight in the household.

So far the Detective’s pack was regrettably stunted and from the way he conducted himself, it was clear that finding a mate that would bring back the balance was the furthest from his mind. Thankfully, there was a way to circumvent that.

“An omega?” Talia seemed surprised by his decision, but not disapproving. The fact that he’d asked for her opinion during one of the few rare meals they’ve shared during a week made her consider the option carefully. “Bruce isn't the kind of an alpha to use his _pup_ in such way.”

Her nose wrinkled when she used the word Westerners coined for their children and Ra’s agreed with her in that regard, it was rather tasteless.

“But he’s be liable to use it to keep his oldest close,” he explained his reasoning. “Young Grayson is staking out his own territory, as is his won't, but the Detective is a possessive man, even if he does his best not to face that about himself.”

His daughter accepted his words with a nod. When her gaze rested on him a moment too long Ra’s raised his eyebrow in question and she shrugged. “The League’s business bores you, father. You could use an interesting project,” her smile was thin, but it was warm. “I haven't seen you this genuinely engaged in awhile.”

She was right.

She also had a vested interest in him pouring his attention into a new project. It made it easier to hide her own machinations.

It hasn't been long since Ra’s had discovered her plan - the child born out of her and Bruce Wayne. An ill-advised endeavour altogether, with both parents being alphas the odds of it growing up wrong were staggering. Not to mention, problems that will arise when Bruce discovers the truth because there was no way to keep him in the dark forever.

He didn't order to have the kit killed, yet, even though it would be as easy as stopping the machines keeping it alive. Talia obviously held some hope for her little experiment and Ra’s wasn’t heartless enough to murder a child that shared his blood. He was, in fact, intrigued by the whole endeavour - the Wayne bloodline was strong and he’d always been curious how it would fare when mixed with his own.

There hasn’t been a child in his home in a long time, either.

And how could he scold his daughter, when he had his own ill-advised experiment to look after?

 

* * *

 

The whole thing wasn't hard to accomplish. Hormone therapy supplemented with a handful of older, more esoteric means served to restart certain bodily processes and push them along new, different tracks. Of course, there was no guarantee the end result will be perfect - Pit’s magic often had its own ideas - but it was enough to put the young beta into a more advantageous position in his clan and household. Western social standards, even if stunted and backward, put omegas into a weird space of being considered subservient and simplistic, but also desirable and essential. An alpha could do no better than to find themselves a pretty little omega mate to coo over them. The boy will be taken care of, regardless of his mental capacity, on the strength of his clan-bonding qualities alone.

It was a pleasant surprise to see that the interference brought some other positive results.

The boy’s mental state started to improve steadily, One day Ra’s entered the room young Robin was kept in to meet the eyes looking up at him from the flushed, sweaty face, that were still green, but cognizant. A shade of blue slowly pushed its way around the irises as they looked at Ra’s, blinking quickly, trying to dislodge the droplets hanging on to the eyelashes.

When he pulled out a blade they’ve widened, a promising reaction, and the thin chest rose sharply in an indrawn breath that turned into a cough when Ra's deftly cut through the straps keeping the kit in place on the bed.

His hand wasn't pushed away when he rested it on the boy's shoulder, gently holding the weak body down when it tried to raise.

“Ghhh?” The kit whined, dazed. It reached out with bound hands in a kitten-weak attempt to grab his shirt. It didn't push, but pulled instead, mumbling, “Br’ce…?”

 

* * *

 

A couple days later Thalia’s son was brought before Ra's. She named him Damian; a strong name for a stubborn kit. It was born early, as expected, with all the enhancements employed in its conception. It did its best to survive, though, and that had to be respected.

Ra’s ordered the child to be kept in the ancestral home, on the Infinity Island, where he could observe its’ progress and had the added bonus of spending more time with his daughter, hoping to calm her suspicions. A clan should stay close together, especially when a new member was born, it would be unthinkable to offer anything less.

He’d respect Talia’s decision to raise her kit as she wished, as long as she respected his decision to involve himself in its life. His curiosity was too great to drop the matter and, call him callous, but for someone who had lived a life so long, finding value in entertainment was an art.

He’d pay to see the Detective’s reaction to the news of having a son by one of his clan.

However, there was a growing concern he could not dismiss pertaining to the kit.

His daughter obviously (and quite surprisingly) loved her child, but, just like him, wasn’t comfortable with expressing it and Ra’s could already see the future issue raising form that. A kit needed care and physical closeness to grow up strong and stable, even he wasn’t stupid enough to deny Talia that when she was a babe herself. Raising a child unused to the affection of the clan made one that’d spent their whole life searching for it in the wrong places.

Raising a child to be strong and raising it to be complete were two different things.

After his own mate’s tragic death, he’d made sure their daughter was surrounded with care when necessary, employing appropriate people to provide it whenever he fell short. He knew that Talia still held the omega that nursed her out of toddlerhood in high esteem…

And that though gave Ra’s an idea that might just solve two issues at once.

A kit needed care. An omega needed a focal point for his struggling mind.

Two birds, one stone, as the Westerners used to say.

 

* * *

 

The surest way to succeed was the most straight-forward. Inducing a heat in a young omega was a child’s play – nothing more than a single shot and two days for the hormones to act. And act they did. In no time Jason was stuck in a lazy, emotional state of the heat fever that juvenile omegas experienced in preparation for the more carnal type of need that will come later, once they’ve developed in full. He was buried in the haphazard nest of assorted clothes and bedding situated on the floor in the corner of his bedroom. Ra's made a note to provide more suitable accommodation for the boy's next heat.

The scent hanging around the room was thick and sweet - as adolescent omegas tended to be - but for Ra's it was easy to ignore. One tended to have better control over themselves once sex had lost its immediate appeal. But the fussing kit on his shoulder wasn't as adept and took notice immediately. Green eyes opened wide, wondrous, small nose twitched in interest, and after a moment of stillness, the kit released a thin, questioning whine.

It went unanswered, though the shifting under the blankets ceased momentarily.

Undeterred, the kit whined again. And again. Each attempt going unacknowledged made it more frustrated and closer to tears, until the sound turned into a continuous wail and the air soured with the scent of distress.

The nest didn't even seem to breathe.

Ra's decided that a little push was necessary. He walked closer to the nest with the crying kit and unceremoniously dropped into the middle of it, pulling the clothes aside.

The issue became clear as soon as his eyes took in the sight that awaited underneath - the omega was half conscious, glossy-eyed and breathing shallowly. Obviously affected by the presence of an alpha and a kit, and entirely overwhelmed by both. Ah yes, he was raised by animals, after all, there was no one to show him how a proper omega should behave.

He pulled the boy to him and brought the kit within touching distance. The cloudy gaze slowly zeroed in on the child, eyebrows inching together. The kit squealed softly, small hands reaching out for the source of the enticing scent. The stubborn little thing deftly crawled its way out of Ra’s grip to paw and whine, and demand attention.

Jason didn't react at first, content to stare at the invaders in his nest, as if trying to puzzle out their presence. But then his nose twitched and his chest expanded, the throat working noiselessly for a moment before the base instincts finally won the battle in his head and everything seemed to fall into place.

He reached for the kit, graceless and awkward, but that was fine, that was something he will get better at. Ra’s surrendered the child and watched the omega bring it closer, sniffing curiously at the tufts of dark hair covering its little head. Was he able to detect a familiar note in that scent? Could he smell the man who was his father for the few fleeting years on this child? Would the shade of his alpha’s presence bridge the gap between them now?

It was an intriguing question, something for another day to contemplate and experiment with.

Meanwhile, the kit nudged Jason’s cheeks and neck with its face, little twitching nose nuzzling into the developing scent glands.

It was charming, in a way, watching the two familiarise themselves with the other's scents, as the scenting and nuzzling grew bolder and more intense. It hit him with a sense of nostalgia for the times gone by - his first mate and kit, more than half of an age ago, both lost to time and cruelty. His daughter - was she ever as small and helpless as that? Small enough to fit in the crook of his elbow.

It didn't take long for the omega to lay the kit on the blanket and nuzzle into its belly, scenting. The child amused itself with trying to pull at his short brown curls, captivated by the silver patch evading its chubby fingers. Ra's chuckled at the sight, his alpha instincts appeased for the moment with the feeling of the order being returned to his clan - even though he didn't consider either kit as his.

He'd allowed a couple more minutes of exploration before pushing the omega on his back, stalling all possible protests with a deep throaty growl. “Stay still.”

The boy dropped back in a hazy, wide-eyed awe. That expression turned into confusion when the kit was laid on his chest, and then to alarm when Ra's nudged the child's face underneath the hem of the loose shirt. That faint alarm grew to comical proportions when small, hungry mouth instinctively attached itself to the nearest nipple.

The omega shook - a full body shudder accompanied by a high noise of surprise, - and made to remove the little intruder, but a quick, hard scruffing stopped the attempt.

“Down,” Ra's ordered calmly. “This is what your kind is made for. Calm down and let the kit nurse.”

“I...” It took an effort to speak for an omega in heat and it was a testament of the strength of will this one possessed that he still tried. “I'mmh… Wha…?”

The child gave out a high whine and suckled harder, and Jason jumped, all attention stolen by the new, unsettling sensation. There was nothing to drink in there, and won't be for another day, at least, until the body catches up to the demand - as omega’s bodies always did. If everything went according to plan, soon enough the flat chest should round up with milk and the hormones released as it happens will make the omega amenable to sharing it with the kit. The child only needed to wait - and even like that, the action itself served to calm it down, to build a bond between it and the milk mother.

“W… w-why i-is…”

The boy fought against his own mind, but the steady sucking motions and the scent and weight of the kit curled against his chest were enough to bring back the heat fever, the lazy, sleepy daze that pulled him under with ease.

“Let the kit nurse,” Ra's repeated calmly.

The omega hummed in answer, soft and pliant, he embraced the child and curled around it in the middle of the nest, conflicted, but obedient for the moment.

Ra’s observed them for a long time to make sure the situation stays under control, then reached inside his robe to pull out a book.

Hopefully, Talia won't panic and storm the castle once she realises that her child has been taken from the nursery, Ra’s would like to observe his new experiment until its natural conclusion.

 

* * *

 

 

The milk came sooner than expected.

When he pulled the child away some blessedly quiet hours later, he was surprised to see the white drops spilling from its mouth, running down the dark, plump nipple and a softly swollen breast. The omega whined at the loss of contact - or the pain of an abused nipple, the kit already had most of its teeth after all, - but stayed prone, curled up on the side and humming softly, seemingly content with life as it was at the moment.

That was quick, even for a juvenile in heat, but not unheard of. There were tales of omegas bringing up milk at the sound of a fussing baby alone. The kit wasn't fed, but it was satisfied, obediently curling up on its grandfather’s shoulder, its eyes not leaving the omega until the doors separated them.

He could leave them together, but a bit of distance was necessary. After all, Damian already had a mother and Ra's didn't seek to replace her in its eyes. One feeding a day should be sufficient, every milk mother needed time to replenish their stores after all.

 

* * *

 

One feeding a day quickly became two, because at first an omega in heat was hard to refuse and a kit starved for affection was even harder. Two feedings and however many times Talia saw it necessary to drop her son into Jason's arms during the night. Once she'd understood the convenience of having an omega wet-nurse at her disposal, and the fact that her father didn't arrange it all to get back at her, she has embraced the situation as advantageous.

That, and she was an alpha herself, the sight of a young omega nursing her child was an appealing one regardless of her personal tastes.

Jason’s mental capacity grew the more Damian became a part of his days. He still disappeared inside of his own head for long stretches of time and his anger was quick to ignite, but it wasn’t the all-consuming force of before. It was easy to explain as emotional outbursts expected from a lost and confused adolescent, forced to re-learn how to walk and speak, confronted with new, alien living arrangements.

Ra’s was sure the forced change of caste was to be thanked for it, the clan-oriented instincts that urged the boy to submit to the hierarchy he’s found himself in reined in his rage, making way for softer emotional expression.

His new role surely helped with that - he was at first confused by the concept of nursing Talia’s son, by the changes it brought to his body. But the kit’s presence unerringly served to calm down his outbursts and was the only one that was never rejected.

 

* * *

 

At six months old Damian was already walking and his bond with his omega caretaker was established to the point that both recognised each other’s presence by scent ahead of sight. It was a fortuitous development, one Ra’s hasn’t planned from the beginning, but appreciated nonetheless. It made his clan feel fuller, as it was, to have the pair. A young omega and a child living in his house, under his watch, it served to calm his inner demons and settle his instincts somewhat.

Once the boy regained most of his mental capabilities and could be trusted to somewhat reliably retain information, Ra’s had explained to him the new state of his existence plainly and with no fanfare - the death, the revival, the debt resting on his thin shoulders from now on.

The fact that his adopted father wasn’t the one to ask for a boon on his behalf was one of the truths that conversation revealed to the newly presented omega.

“You’re a sign of my goodwill,” Ra’s explained, watching dispassionately as the young face turned pale and the shaking hands closed into fists. “Because he’d never ask for it. In that man’s world, there’s nothing worth that kind of a debt, not even his children.”

The kit opened his mouth, doubtlessly trying to protest, but no sound came out. There was no challenge in the glassy eyes that turned away from Ra’s, blinking slowly so the gathering tears wouldn’t escape.

Somehow now, on the verge of being healed, Jason Todd looked more pathetic than he did previously, strapped to the bed and howling in anguish. He seemed to shrink under the alpha’s eye, curling in on himself, disappearing almost between the folds of the loose-cut robes. It was pitiful to see the headstrong Robin like that, but not unexpected for a despaired omega.

“He… he’d f-fight for m-me,” the boy said in the end, each word tight and pained, pronounced slowly and with care. “He’d try e-everyt’ing to…”

“The clown is back in Arkham. Alive.”

These words, the sole mention of the madman, were enough to break any semblance of courage and poise the former Robin has managed to hold onto so far. It broke with an almost audible crack, with a flinch, and then the tears came, small sobs quiet in the silence of the room. Ra’s didn't move to comfort the boy, even though his instincts recognised an omega in distress and urged him to make it cease. Even though his conscience asked what he's trying to accomplish by shaking the boy’s faith in his father before giving him back.

The child didn't deserve his mercy. But it also didn't deserve to experience more pain than it could stand.

Let it not be said that Ra’s Al Ghul was cruel for the sake of it. “You can weep, child,” he allowed. “You’ve been wronged and unavenged, it is your right. Later, if you decide that you want to be more than a victim, come find me.”

Later, but not much later, Jason found him.

Still walking on shaking legs, escorted by a servant who had to support his weight, the boy stood before Ra’s in his study, biting his thin lips and keeping his eyes averted demurely.

“C-can you… help m-me? Why?” He asked, distrust clear on his face and in his voice, regardless of the instincts telling him to quall it. Good, he knew he’s outmanoeuvred, but still didn’t want to swear his life off blindly.

“I’ve given you your life back out of respect for your alpha,” Ra's admitted easily. “But my daughter and grandson have both taken a liking to you.”

A shiver went up the boy’s form, followed by an aborted move to raise his hands across his chest. Was the sole notion of the kit nursing off of him enough to cause the glands to swell? Interesting.

“B-but… how?”

“I have helped him to become what he is today.” There was no need to speak the name, they both knew it. “I can help you reach the same heights before you return to him. Not as a child who was a victim, but as a man who can avenge himself.”

Now the boy was looking at him and his eyes were burning.

Good.

 

* * *

 

Jason Todd didn't stop surprising him.

The boy slowly put himself back together, building up around his missing pieces quietly, with minimal fuss, seemingly much older than his feeble fifteen years of age would suggest. Or maybe it was sixteen now? Would the months where he was dead count? Was there any reason to pay attention to a number so paltry, anyway?

Ra’s made sure to acquire all available paper trails pertaining to his new pupil and what he read explained some things but challenged others. He’d expected an ex-street rat to be more frivolous and disrespectful, he expected a product of the Western world’s ways of dealing with their disadvantaged - a loud, brash, violent, entitled little brat. Instead, the boy was surprisingly quiet, a complete contrast to his first awakening, to the expectations. Jason was studious and applied himself to training with a quiet sort of determination, unwilling to give up until the art has been mastered, no matter how many weapons fell out of his stiff hands or how many times his mind struggled to orient itself.

Had a skill for languages, too, quickly learning simple phrases in Arabic, correctly assuming it was the lingua franca on the island. The weapon’s master from Kamchatka Ra’s had employed for him, reported that the boy picked up Russian phrases as easily as he did knife fighting. Sometimes his general understanding was limited, but it seemed that as long as the words were spoken slowly, Jason could reliably parrot them, including the accent.

Once allowed, he filled his room with books and every moment outside of training he was spending in their company, shaking fingers tracing over the letters, mouth moving as he silently put the words together, slowly relearning how to read.

He was an interesting one, the second Robin.

 

* * *

 

“You’re h-having me... w-watched.”

“Of course.”

“Af-fraid I’ll... escape?”

“Afraid?”

 

* * *

 

But there was still restlessness in him, like a persistent itch, barely reigned in. One that only seemed to settle in the presence of Ra’s grandson. Like a proper omega, the boy got better at providing affection and reacting to the kit’s emotional needs. Even though his efforts were so far stumbling and awkward, the child in question didn’t seem to mind the strange treatment and responded to it in eagerly.

Ra’s decided to wait and observe. In the worst case scenario, he will simply employ corrective action.

 

* * *

 

“I thought… I d-didn't think I’d end up a ‘mega…”

“Why is that?”

“Just… m-mom and W-willis were both b-betas.”

“That means little, I’m sure you’re aware.”

“I know, but… I’ve never w-wanted… R-Robin can’t be… ‘mega...”

“Robin was conceived as an easy target. Regardless of your caste, it would still have killed you, child.”

 

* * *

 

A year in, Ra’s provided the boy with a separate tutor, an omega well into his years that was to teach him about the social norms surrounding his new caste. He was effeminate in a way some male omegas embraced, soft at every angle and kindly-spoken, calm and patient enough to walk the boy through his changing body. Through the personal care needed to make it thrive and other things that an alpha had no interest in or even the right to know.

The time was approaching to wean Damian off of his milk mother’s fare. Soon Jason’s body will enter the height of development and his heats will change their tone. Ra’s preferred to be prepared for that moment.

 

* * *

 

“When I finally… W-when I go through the real h-heat… will I have to…”

“You will be provided for. This is a civilised society, regardless of what your father might have thought of it. You will spend your heats in safety, untouched if that's your wish.”

“...t-thank you.”

 

* * *

 

The heats didn't come in for another year, most probably just to be contrary.

 

* * *

 

Three years after the Pit, Ra's arranged for the boy to stay in a home of one of his acquaintances. It was an exclusive establishment with a long history or perfect service and care it took of its patrons and the omegas that made it. Nothing as crude as a brothel where money exchanged hands. Malai family followed the traditional route of their religion, where the alpha heads took on as many omegas, from within and without the family, as they could afford to keep providing for. Since this family was old and wealthy, it could afford to surround quite a number of omegas with luxury and comfort.

It was a symbol of prosperity as well as a way to keep one’s mates and siblings safe and content - a big clan with many children made for an environment most generally preferred by omegas.

The right to enjoy the harem’s goodwill wasn't possible to be quantified with money or favours. It strictly was a sign of respect and good will that one was allowed to enter the inner Chambers of the Malai’s Marrakesh palace. Possible only because one alpha, even of the best breeding, could only do so much to satisfy so many mates.

Ra's always had a good standing with the Malai family and could count on preferential treatment from its omegas. He'd been once told that the harem still told stories of his exemplary prowess. Was he fresher from the last bath in the Pit, he'd attempt to bring the tales to life, satisfying all the lovely creatures surrounding him, alas, he was there for a different reason.

Jason Todd’s change had come to an end, leaving him a fairly satisfying specimen of his new caste. A bit too sharp, a bit too hard, with hips that were probably never going to grow wide enough to match the best mothers - not with the way the boy adamantly kept himself in shape and the way his genetics kept pulling him up and up, dispersing any trace of fat leftover from childhood. Both his blood parents were of above average height and the tendency obviously carried through. The things that signalled his caste were still noticeable: chest rounded slightly in the lingering evidence of his bond with Ra’s grandson. Lack of facial hair, barely noticeable on one so young. The heft of his thighs, making up for the slim hips.

But the little details that stuck out - like the patch of white hair over his forehead that curled opposite way to the rest, or the unusual colour of his eyes that have never lost their greenish sheen - only served to underline the attractiveness of his strong body and even features.

Yes, Jason might be still a bit awkward, but the Detective could easily build a whole new clan around an omega like that.

But not yet.

Not yet, because the boy still looked downright plain next to the eight beautiful omegas that greeted them at the entrance to a sun-bathed boudoir that for all its size and lavishness still managed to create a comfortable and intimate atmosphere. Filled with soft fabrics and calming colours, the room looked as inviting as its inhabitants - with their smooth skin, plush bodies and revealing clothes.

Unsurprisingly, Jason shrunk at the sight, before straightening back up at the growled admonishment. That moment alone was enough of a confirmation that the boy desperately needed socialisation within his own caste and Ra’s wasn’t about to deprive him of that. He’d set out to create the most well-rounded omega he could manage to conjure out of the pieces of a broken little bird that fell into his hands, after all.

The First Spouse stepped forward to greet the alpha with a bow and a purr, and Ra’s returned the respect in kind. The omega was the oldest of the group, but nonetheless beautiful, with olive skin glistening with health and a braid of dark red hair adorned with jewels. He was smaller than both of the guests, slender and soft, but his eyes were intelligent and shrewd, and when his attention rested on Jason, they lighted up with interest.

Faced with such stark attention directed at him, the boy shrunk back again. This time, however, before Ra’s could scold him again, a low lilting trill stopped them both in their tracks.

The First closed the distance, reaching up until his graceful fingers rested on Jason’s collarbone, rubbing gentle circles on the pale skin, over the protruding bones and slightly swollen scent glands.

Jason melted at the touch and his eyelids dropped within seconds.

The low trill didn't end as the First gently explored the young omega’s face and trailed one of his hands up, into the tangle of the dark curls. He smiled softly, tugging briefly at the silver streak before pushing the hair up the boy's forehead and leaning in to finally scent him. It was a tender gesture, calming, and Jason gasped softly once their foreheads met.

That seemed to be the signal for Ra’s to step back and allow the rest of the group to move in, to pull the boy into their midst as purrs and trills filled the air.

Yes, that was a good sign, the boy has been welcomed. The omegas investigated him with gentle hands, petting his shoulders, face and neck, familiarizing themselves with his scent and him with theirs. One gasped in pleased surprise when his hands that tried to span Jason’s bicep didn't quite meet and another murmured approvingly at the size of his waist. The youth was easily the tallest of them and they seemed to find it appealing - and the more they found appealing about him, the more out of his depth he looked, never before being subjected to such tender attention. Soon his mind did the only thing it knew to do when faced with confusing situations, it retreated back into itself - well, at least it tried to.

It came rushing back when his tunic was parted and the trills were replaced by a chorus of soft ohs and ahs as eager fingers reached inside to pet his chest, the omegas virtually cooing at the sight of his dark nipples.

Ah, yes - there were few things in the world that got a pack of omegas as pleased as a notion of a kit.

And just like that, he’d lost the boy for the foreseeable future to the omegas that dragged him away, chattering excitedly, in the direction of the plush nest.

He considered briefly joining them but eventually discarded the idea. His pupil needed to learn non-verbal communication appropriate to his caste and an alpha in their midst would only serve as a distraction.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later he returned to check on the boy’s progress and found him well taken care of - covered in scented oils and post-heat pheromones, curled between two older omegas, purring softly in a pleased haze as one nuzzled his chest and the other mouthed and nipped at his scent glands.

The First had nothing but praise for the former Robin, obviously enamoured with the awkward youth and his situation.

“There's much pain in your kit,” he said sadly. “He's fearful of himself and others, and it's hard for him to be tender. I think you should give him a child.” A resolute nod followed. “Yes, a kit would be good for him.”

Ra's thanked for the advice and stored it in the back of his mind in case it will ever be needed.

With time it became clear that Jason wasn't going to be a common omega - that his body won't grow any softer and his voice will never reach the highest, sweetest notes that would be possible if his vocal cords got to develop properly from childhood. But Ra’s didn’t consider it a big loss. The lower, more throaty vocalisations were actually a better fit for the kind of an omega Jason Todd turned out to be.

 

* * *

 

Five years past his resurrection, the boy was six feet tall, proportionally built and proficient in speaking six languages. Nowhere to find was the thin, wasted child that could barely string his words together. Nowhere to find were the uneasy, staggering gait or shivering hands that struggled to turn pages in a book. What replaced them was strong and precise, deadly in the same way in which it was also soft. An omega that brought honour to his caste and pride to his clan.

He treated Talia’s son as his own kit - and the child returned the sentiment. The “Umm’i” became an integral part of the kit’s upbringing, providing enough soft emotionality to balance out the harshness of his training and the expectations that drove it. It was a wise move to separate these two notions early, lest the child became confused - a life of an assassin was harsh and expecting safety outside of the nest was a foolishness one would pay for with their life more often than not. No omega would ever raise the hand to the kit they had nursed, no matter what ties broke between them, and Ra’s planned on exploiting that bond to provide his grandson with a stalwart protector in the future. Talia took over Jason’s upbringing for that exact reason as soon as his bond with Damian became a fact, training him in all the arts necessary to make him useful to her son.

It was also the year when Jason killed a teacher for the first time.

It was mildly surprising, for all of his bluster and the past of violence on the streets, the boy had never exhibited an outright murderous intent. In a large part due to the time spent with the Detective, no doubt, being indoctrinated with his contrary moral system.

When questioned, he said that that the reason was his own, but some careful digging revealed a rather interesting photographic material in the dead man's possession. Had he known, Ra's might have killed the deviant himself.

Interestingly, Jason waited with exacting his judgement, making sure to learn everything the man had to teach before using it against him. Shot with his own gun, a fitting end to a trash like that.

So that's where it went, the madness that followed the boy him from the Pit and still tinted his eyes green. It didn't disappear, it just hid deeper, overlaid with new instincts. With some careful handling, it could be re-directed into useful pursuits.

Of course, only after the former Robin got over the emotional weight of taking a life.

 

* * *

 

“I’ve killed… I couldn't… I just couldn’t let him go!”

“Do you regret ridding the world of that man now?”

“No! No, I… I don't know… I… How do I… how do you ever deal with that?”

“When I finally killed the man who’d murdered my wife, I’ve felt relief. Regretting it would mar her memory, it would turn the pain of her death, her suffering, trite. Why did you kill that man?”

“So… I had to stop him. _I had to_ stop him so he won’t... hurt any more kids…”

“Then that was a decision you’ve made. Regret renders it into a mistake, boy, into nothing more than a moment of madness or fear… Would you make a different choice, given a chance?”

“...this …this is not what he wanted me to be.”

“And was he ever what _you’ve_ wanted him to be?”

 

* * *

 

At nineteen Jason demanded to be allowed to go to Gotham, to take his own revenge against the Joker. To make his own peace with the Detective.

It was an explosive argument on his side, something that Ra's expected to happen for a while now. There had to come a moment for the anger and betrayal to finally boil over. The photo evidence of the new Robin following the Bat hit the boy hard and threw him back into an uncontrollable rage, brought back the pain of death, the feeling of abandonment.

It was a testament of how far his instincts had developed that he didn't just rush out on his own, but asked his alpha to let him go.

Ra's, obviously, didn't. Skilled as he was, the boy was not a match for the Detective and his growing posse, not yet. Maybe not ever. Not if he didn't learn to get a tight hold on his emotions. Until that day came, Ra's was willing to help him with that.

The omega was locked up in his rooms, under strict guard with no visitation rights - with the exception of Damian, obviously. Keeping the kit away from his umm’i for good was unnecessary. One visit a day was enough to keep the kit from panicking and had the added benefit of teaching him to appreciate his bond and his alpha's grace in letting him have it.

It also brought to light the real power of the bond for Jason.

His rage subsided immediately at the first whine of distress from the kit that saw him punching the wall. The green haze from his eyes didn't clear completely, but it retreated enough to let him clearly see the fear Damian tried to hide behind the learned poise. The scent of it was harder to mask at such a young age. It left both boys standing in front of one another, wide-eyed and perfectly still, assessing - Ra's could at that moment believe that they were, indeed, related by blood.

In the end his assumption was proven right, Jason didn't attack the kit.

He ended up pulling Damian into the catastrophe of a nest he'd upturned in his anger, nuzzling the small head, letting the kit lick gently at his split knuckles, trying to calm its whines with his own calming purrs and murmurs.

Damian's presence did wonders to help disperse the madness, it was almost unnecessary to induce another heat - but in the end, it was worth the effort. Within a week the omega was back to being calm and willing to listen to his alpha again, the desire to tear the new Robin apart with his bare hands momentarily buried.

 

* * *

 

A month past his sixth birthday, Damian returned from a training trip to America with a severed head in his hands. It was well-preserved, expertly separated from the body. A worthy gift and a splendid first trophy.

As for the head’s previous owner… Ra’s left the scolding to his daughter.

Talia was quick to deliver all the reasons for why killing such a prominent crime figure was a reckless deed and what consequences it would bring. Revenge of the man’s associates, the interest of the law enforcement. Even the possibility of the Detective taking notice and tracking the kill back to them.

The boy took the scolding well, respecting his mother and her arguments, humbling himself with an apology for executing the plan without prior consultation and taking on the punishment she’d meted out with grace. His defence was brief, followed by a reassurance of doing his best to leave no trail.

“You have taught me well, mother, I’ll ask you to trust my skill to follow your teachings. I’ve only desired to test myself against my father’s most stalwart enemy to gain an understanding of him and his methods.”

Later on, however, during the private fencing lesson with his grandfather, the boy had revealed the other reason both Ra’s and Talia had suspected but left unmentioned.

“I’ve done it in part so that umm’i stops waking up at night,” he said, lifting his eyes from inspecting his training sword, the look in them vaguely troubled. “I’m tired of being roused by screams.”

“Understandable,” Ra’s agreed. The servants guarding the former Robin had reported the issue to him a long time go. “However, soon you will have to consider sleeping in your own bed and letting go of your milk mother’s skirts.”

Damian’s eyebrows narrowed in brief confusion and mild distaste. “He’s not wearing skirts.” And then his expression cleared into a well-deserved pride. “Regardless, I’ve ensured that umm’i’s sleep will be undisturbed from now on.”

There was no regret in the boy and Ra’s was glad for it. The need to protect one’s clan was a noble trait, no matter that in this instance it was supported by a selfish desire to keep Todd from leaving. With the clown gone the omega had no more need for revenge, no more need to leave the Island. The child would not lose his sanctuary yet. Selfishness kept one alive when everything else has failed.

For that reason alone, Ra’s allowed his grandson to hold on to the omega for a couple more years.

The thought of returning the fallen Robin back to his original nest was never further away from his mind.

 

* * *

 

“I don't know if I should feel grateful or terrified.”

“Should?”

“He’s a kid! Only a kid and he… he did this…”

“Are you displeased that the clown is dead?”

“I… I was supposed to do that! It was supposed to be me! I’ve spent all this time learning… to finally one day...”

“Revenge is a respectable pursuit, I’ll admit. But would you chose it above knowing the depth of love and respect your kit has for you?”

“I… he should not have done this!”

“He did this to honour your bond the only way he knew how, dedicating his rite of passage to you.”

“I don't know…”

“You’re a part of this clan, Jason, and a clan takes care of its own.”

 

* * *

 

He’d kept all his promises, as he was wont to, even if his original plan of restoring the child back to life and returning it to its father fell through somewhere along the line. Years have been kind to the boy and sometimes it felt that it took one blink for the broken little bird to turn into a beautiful, powerful youth.

Would the Detective even want him back? - Ra’s wondered sometimes, when the doubts and rare spikes of guilt towards the fellow alpha reared their heads. Would he accept a child so utterly changed, or would he reject it in a fit of terror over the blood soaking its footprints? Would he rather wage war on Ra’s and his clan for turning his hatchling into a weapon and a murderer with no remorse? (Except the youth felt remorse, none of his kills was accidental, omegas only ever killed when they've been left with no other choice).

Would it be better if the man never knew - and Ra’s got to keep Jason to himself for a little while longer?

After all, staying by his side was not a hardship, he didn't think. He could offer the omega luxurious life no other could dream of - even Bruce Wayne’s wealth was limited in comparison to the treasures accumulated throughout the ages by the Head of the Demon. Not to mention the strange and backwards way the West treated their omegas. Where else could Jason expect to be given a nest of the softest materials known to man just for his own and the freedom to rule over it as he wished? Ra’s and his clan could dress him up head to toes in ancient jewels worth more than a kingdom; they could provide him with the freedoms the West was slow to even consider. His nest being out of bounds, he could invite whoever he wanted to make his heats sweet and fulfilling - how could a life of thinly disguised servitude amongst Gotham’s miserable upper class even compare to that?

The West has forgotten that omegas could be gems to be coveted, but they had two sets of fangs for a reason. Jason was a jewelled dagger in the clan’s hands and no one was better suited to appreciate his steely glow than them.

And glow he did, especially in the throes of a heat.

Ra’s had promised him safety and protection. They were a civilised society, the boy would not have to give himself to anyone he didn't wish to.

It took years before he wished to.

Partly because of Damian’s presence - the kit was jealous of his milk mother’s affection form the youngest, instinctively standing as a barrier between him and any possible suitors.

Partly because of the assorted trauma that ruined the first half of his life.

Partly because there didn't seem to be an alpha he’d be willing to submit to.

For a time.

Talia was the first one to have him and Ra’s didn't resent her for it. She was the mother of the kit Jason had nursed out of childhood, it tied them together as confidants, both watching over the boy, invested in his growth and happiness. It made Talia look at the young man with kinder eyes, find it in herself to accept him by her side and maybe even find him desirable, even if her tastes ran in the direction of her own caste.

She was a fierce alpha - but he was a fierce omega. Their mating happened suddenly and without fanfare, and it was never discussed, no matter how much Damian huffed and puffed about it.

Afterwards, Ra’s thought, it should have been obvious that it won't be long before the omega ended up opening his nest to him - but at the moment it happened, it was a surprise.

A pleasant one, nonetheless.

He’d lived a long time without experiencing the pleasures of the flesh, either too busy or otherwise preoccupied to allow himself to feel desire. For one as old as him, it was rare to feel the carnal pull towards another’s body.

But once it happened, he didn't give anything, but his undivided attention to the body that fell back into the soft fabrics, enticing him closer with its warmth and scent, and legs spread in a daring invitation. He treated it to all of his skill, leaving the omega shivering and too breathless to even moan before he even claimed him.

“They… they said… you were… _splendid…_ ”

The youth’s face was flushed as he spoke the last word, no doubt quoting the Malai’s First. His lips were plump and glossy, and Ra’s chuckled as he claimed them, vainly glad of his proceeding fame. Ah, the enthusiasm of the fresh alpha pups was commendable but meant little when compared to six centuries of experience.

Once one knew how and where to touch, the omega was opening for him like moonflower, soft and ready, glistening with sweat and slick, reduced to nothing, but whimpers and begging. It was the headiest pleasure, to finally sink into that waiting body, feel it go boneless underneath him at the gentlest nip on the back of the neck - nothing more was needed, certainly no scruffing or scars. The art of gentling down omegas seemed sadly lost to the time, but it only served to make it all the more satisfying to see one experience it for the first time. To see the blush stealing across the lovely face as it smooths out, the mouth going lax in surprised delight, eyes swimming with tears of unnamed emotions.

The boy whined for him to hurry, but Ra’s kept to his own pace for the two days of the heat’s duration. During the second day, he’d rarely left Jason’s body, taking pleasure in the way his muscles played under the taut skin, in the strength and power momentarily bound to his will, submissive and pliant, and eager to please and be pleasured.

In the heat of the rut it was easy to imagine his seed taking root, filling the omega with new life, making that flat stomach swell with a kit and his chest with milk, tying the former Robin down for good. With a child, he’d never leave the clan, with his own family to take care of.

It was a heady dream.

But not for now. Maybe later, maybe never. Not only Damian was a jealous pup, Talia was just as possessive of her position as the sole heir to the Demon.

That’s why, once the heat has passed, he was glad to offer the omega a special draught and doubly glad that Jason drank it eagerly. It was a pleasant time they’ve spent together, but he didn't imagine the fear in the boy’s eyes at the mention of a child.

“I’m not… God knows if it’ll even develop right, with what happened to me… can’t risk it.”

Of course.

And with the furiously displeased way Damian reacted to the news of his umm’i inviting Ra’s into the nest… well, Ra’s wasn’t sure that his best efforts could keep the theoretical child safe from his very real grandson’s wrath.

 

* * *

 

As with everything else, childhood had to come to an end even for the heir of the Demon.

Talia chose to send her son away, to Gotham, to claim the other part of his birthright and learn from his sire what he couldn't learn from her.

Ra’s had his qualms but didn't challenge her decision. After all, he’d taken one son from the Detective, he could give him one in return.

At ten years of age, due to Talia's work and superior genetics, Damian was already more developed than many older children. He was a skilled and accomplished warrior, a shadow in the darkness, leagues ahead of the birds flying above Gotham’s streets. There wasn’t much to be a danger to him in America. He decided to set out on his own, with no help, his pride speaking for him in that instance. The boy grew up listening to the tales of his father, studying his exploits and strengths, it was only expected that one day he'd desire to weight his sire’s worth on his own.

About the only person who never spoke of the Detective was the omega and the boy wasn't stupid, he understood the need to leave his wetnurse behind this time.

Didn't mean that he was going to leave the man to his own devices, though.

“Umm’i,” the boy spoke seriously, holding Jason's gaze with his own intent one. The helicopter in the distance was ready to lift, these were the last goodbyes. “I forbid you from accepting any suitors while I’m away.”

Jason, unsurprisingly, reacted with a less than dignified sound. “Really? What makes you think you have a say in the matter?”

“When I finally take over my sire’s clan, I want you to join me in it. You can't be my clan’s First is you’re mated to someone unworthy.”

Left speechless, the omega stared at the boy while Talia rolled her eyes behind her son’s back, signalling that this was an argument she’d not managed to win yet with the boy. Ra’s found it rather endearing, all things considered, the plan behind it was sound - it was a good strategic decision when taking the leadership of an already established clan to bring an omega from your own. A little underhanded, true, but an advantage was an advantage.

And in this case the advantage was double - as the omega belonged to the Detective’s clan first, both sides only gained from his return.

“You have a lot of _nerve_ ,” Jason said in the end, running a hand through his hair, on some level understanding that this was a battle he won't win. “To assume you can just order me around.”

“Grandfather,” unperturbed, Damian turned to Ra’s. “Ensure that umm’i does not end up mated before I summon him.”

“Oh god, I’ve raised a snake.”

“Quite literally on your own breast,” Talia supplied smugly.

“Ugh, come here, you!”

For all his training and skill, the boy didn't even attempt to escape the arms that caught him in a stranglehold. It was the last embrace he’d allow himself in a long while and Ra’s understood that the kit felt distressed at the idea of leaving behind the omega that nursed him through the earliest years. It was not an easy thing to leave the safe nest and step into adulthood, so he pretended not to see the tender goodbye and Talia did the same.

“Take care of yourself and listen to Alfred,” Jason muttered in English, scenting the kit’s hair for the last time. “Any trouble, call me.”

“I won’t have to,” Damian assured, nuzzling into the omega’s neck. “I will break Drake’s bones for you.”

“Not if it will upset Alfred, you won't.”

“Umm’i! I will not commiserate with the help!”

“Don't you ever call him that, brat! I told you, if you get him on your side, you’re halfway in.” The last tender nuzzle and Jason gently pushed the kit away. “Now get going, bi’bi. Stay safe.”

“Do _not_ get mated.”

“Do not try my _patience_.”

He watched the boy go and left staring at the sky long after. Talia left first, already divorced from the situation and Ra’s followed after, absolutely sure that, somehow, the Detective will find a way to throw a wrench into his daughter’s plans.

But that was a concern for later and a lesson she’ll have to learn.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda fell in love with the idea of Damian, raised with an emotionally available caretaker, grew up to be a little less of an asshole and finds it easier to find his place in the Wayne Manor (Jason tipped him off on gaining Alfred's favour = Bruce's favour). I kinda want to bring Jason to Gotham now - since he has little reason to go now that Joker's dead - and somehow fix the whole ridiculous mess with the Heretic>_>


End file.
